


Children of the Diaspora

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Arrows, Background story, Bows, M/M, Sibling Incest, Swords, axes, hair clasps, khuzdal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though he had never seen it, Fili was of Erebor.  He knew this as he knew his parents’ love and the color of the sky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Hobbit provoked a lot of deep feelings in me that took me off guard. This is how I dealt with them.

When Fili was born, Erebor had already been lost. He didn’t remember the sweet air of the lower caverns as his mother did or the give of a pick against stone as his father did. He had never walked through the great halls or wound down spindly pathways into the vast caverns. He had never stolen bread from the King’s kitchens or played with flawed stones in the royal creche. Yet these things lived within him, suckled from his mother as readily as milk and poured in his ear by his father’s steady voice. 

Fili was of Erebor. He knew this as he knew his parents’ love and the color of the sky. 

He was already seven the first time he heard the name Thorin. Later he would wonder why it took so long. Perhaps it had been said to him before and he was too young to grasp the meaning of it. 

It was early afternoon in a mild Spring. They were moving again, his father’s cart laden with fine filigree along with pots and pans. Tona, the donkey, stopped on a verdant bank and would not be moved until she had her fill of the grass. Fili’s mother carried him down to the running creek. 

“Look,” she pointed, “see how the fish jump?”

“Can I catch one?” He asked, taken by the shining scales. 

“Being a fisherman is no easy thing.” His father laughed, breaking off a branch from a tree and tying a bit of string to it. With a few clever twists, a hook was fashioned and his father showed him how to dip his line into the water. 

“Don’t let Thorin catch on you’re showing him things like that.” His mother scolded. “It’s elves that dash about in the waters.”

“Thorin’s pride keeps him fed.” His father sighed. “But it will not fill my son’s stomach.” 

“Who’s Thorin?” Fili asked, eyes fixed on the ripples his hook made where it bobbed in the water. 

“Your uncle, my Beryl.” She smiled. “You’ve met him once, but you were too small to remember. You’ll see him again soon.” 

There was a tug on the line and with a gleeful laugh, Fili pulled a fish from the creek. 

“Well done, boy.” His father clapped him on the shoulder. 

He doesn't remember if they ate the fish or threw it back. Instead, he recalled the sadness in his father’s eyes and the hushed reverence of his mother when she spoke her brother’s name. He knew that the mythical ‘soon’ arrival of his uncle turned into two years. 

His father’s tinkering brought them to Pelargir where they settled into an apartment near the port. Every morning, his father would set out with his cart and make rounds to mend the pots and pans of fishwives. His mother took in washing, spending hours over a steaming pot of water until her hair escaped her careful braids and frizzed into a dark halo around her face. Fili helped her, stirring the great pot until his arms ached. In the evening, his father came back tired and worn thin. Fili would bring out the small stool for his feet and his mother would cook. She always complained that this or that ingredient wasn’t quite right, but Fili always though her thick stews, nutty breads and roasts were perfect. 

When they’d lived in Pelargir for half a year, his mother made a dinner Fili had never had before: a thick honey cake that oozed with sweet cheese topped with walnuts. She usually said that there wasn’t enough honey for such indulgence and he ate his portion up quickly before she changed her mind. 

“I know this bread.” His father rumbled, taking the first tentative bite. “But you have already cooked it for me once.” 

“And so I have again.” Her smile was pained. “Not many men can say they’ve had that luxury of it twice in such a short span.” 

“When?” His father asked. 

“Five months. Maybe six.” 

“When what?” Fili asked, licking the last of the sticky honey from his fingertips. 

“My Beryl.” His mother knelt down next to him. She took his plate and set it on the floor, then took his small hands in hers. “You’re going to be a big brother.” 

“Am I?” He looked to his father, who nodded solemnly. “But why? Aren’t I enough?” 

“You are.” She assured him. “Mahal saw fit to bless us with another child, my Beryl. He saw how good you were, you see.”

Yet later, when he was meant to be asleep, he could hear them talking through the crack under his door. 

“How will we do this?” His mother wept. “How can we bring another child into this life?” 

“It’s not so bad.” His father reassured. “There’s work here. If we save enough over the next few years, I can open my own forge.” 

“And what human will step from their own kind’s shop to use your services?” She snapped. “Don’t feed me hope where there is none to be had.” 

“And do not abandon it so easily.” His father didn’t sound angry, only very tired. “Fili has been our jewel, our riches. Maybe I cannot double our fortunes, but you can.” 

There was a quiet pause and Fili flung back his blankets to creep to the door. He pressed his ear to the wood. The silence went on too long and though he couldn’t say why, he became afraid. 

“In my parents’ rooms there was a cradle.” Said his mother at last. “Worked iron that shone like silver. It was my mother’s once and then mine. She often told me that one day it would belong to my children.” 

“Aye, my family had one too. Though I doubt ours was as fine.” 

“Every time I think that I have mourned the last bit of it and there are no more tears....” She stirred, her thick skirts rustling against the floor. “How good it would have be to put my baby down in that cradle.” 

“We will forge a new one.” His father told her. The silence came again, stretching so long this time that Fili began to yawn. He went back to his nest of blankets and heard no more. 

The very next evening, his father swung Fili up onto his shoulders and took him outside to the cart. The cradle was the first thing Fili helped to create. Each bar had been held by his small hands, waiting to be handed to his father and every joint bore a few smacks of his own hammer. 

“I helped!” He crowed when his father unveiled their masterpiece. 

“Did you, my Beryl?” She picked him up and held him very tightly. “It’s very beautiful. What a good smith you are.” 

“Don’t be sad.” He buried his head in her shoulder.

“I’m not sad.” She kissed his cheek. “How can I be with such a clever little boy?”

The cradle took a place of honor near the fire though it stayed empty for many more months. Fili watched his mother’s belly grow rounder and his father’s smile widen. Now when he came home in the evening, it was mother who sat and put her feet on the stool. Father cooked in her stead. He added more spices and tried different dishes. Fili learned to like mutton the way the humans cooked it and fell in love with mince pies. 

“You’ll turn him into a Gondorian.” His mother complained as she stripped meat from bone with her teeth. 

“It will take much more than dinner for that.” His father laughed. “Or are you in danger of shaving off your chin hairs and wearing linen skirts?” 

“What a terrible thing to say!” His mother scolded through her own giggles. 

“I want a Gondorian sword.” Fili mashed his peas to a pulp, then ate the mash. 

“A human blade?” His father tsked. “Nay, when you’re old enough I’ll take you to a proper forge, my lad. You’ll make your own weapons as it should be.” 

“You made your axe?” He asked, peas forgotten. 

“When I was fifty, my father showed me the way of it.” His father gestured wildly with his fork. “I forged three and melted them back down again until he was satisfied with my work. Then he took that axe and sold it and made me do three more. ‘One day this will be all that stands between you and death’, he told me, ‘so make it perfect.’ And when you’re fifty, I’ll say the same to you.” 

“Fifty?” Fili whined. “But that’s so long from now.” 

“I’ll come quicker than you think.” His mother added another scoop of peas to his plate. “Eat, my Beryl.” 

He ate, submitted to a wet washcloth on his hands and face, then retreated to the fire to play with his wooden soldiers. His mother and father sat talking at the table about nothing interesting. Then his mother grunted softly, one hand pressed to her belly. 

“Is it time?” His father asked and she nodded once sharply. “I’ll fetch Bana.” 

“No.” His mother righted herself. “I bore one child with only you by my side, I can do it again.” 

“You don’t have to be without the company of women.” 

“What use is Bana to me? She isn’t my sister, mother, aunt or cousin. Did she ask me to let down her braids when she got married? Did she light a candle for my dead with me on Zokar? Did she offer me sweetmeats when I told her I was pregnant?” 

“She’s not of our halls. Those aren’t her traditions.” 

“Exactly.” His mother heaved herself to her feet. “I bore one babe in the wilderness with only our arms as cradle and branches as roof. Surely I can do another in the comfort of our own room.” 

“What about Fili?” 

Fili sat back on his haunches, one soldier firm in his hand. 

“I can help.” He offered. 

“You can.” His mother decided. “There is still washing to be folded for Malis. Can you finish that for me?” 

“Yes.” He got to his feet at once and went to the wicker hamper full up with fresh clean shirts. 

“Good.” She kissed him on the forehead. “When you’ve finished, drink a glass of goat’s milk then go to bed.” 

“But I’ll miss the baby coming.” 

“I’ll wake you.” His father promised, guiding his mother by the elbow into their bedroom. 

It didn’t take long to fold the rest of the washing. He did the neat tucks and folds that his mother had taught him. His father sang in the other room, snippets of melodies and lullabies that had coaxed Fili to sleep on many less exciting nights. With exacting obedience, he poured a glass of goat’s milk and drank it down even though it was too warm. 

He brought a stubby candle to his bedroom, intending to stay up, but his body betrayed him. He woke to his father’s hand on his shoulder with the candle long ago snuffed out. 

“You have a brother!” His father crowed. “Would you like to see him?” 

“Yes.” Fili scrambled out of bed, leaving behind slippers and robe. 

The cradle still stood near the fire, but the blankets his mother had piled in over the past few weeks were no longer empty. So swaddled up was the baby that all Fili could see was the small face, relaxed into sleep. 

“What’s his name?” 

“Kili.” His father reached and plucked the layered bundle out. “Fili for joy and Kili for laughter. What do you think of that?” 

“I like it.” He decided. 

“Would you like to hold him?” His mother came through the doorway, dark circles under her eyes. 

“Yes, please.” Fili didn’t really want to, but he didn’t like how she looked and thought it best to be agreeable. 

“Sit here then.” She sat down in the wide chair, patting the cushion next to her. Fili scrambled up. “Hold out your arms and be sure to support his head.” 

She kept her arms around him, supporting them as his father settled the baby into his arms. Kili didn’t wake, only let out a soft breath. The soft down of hair tufted out from under the blanket. Black like their mother, instead of their father’s blonde. 

“My brother.” Fili tasted the words on his tongue. 

“Say _‘ah haza’_.” His mother told him. 

“ _Ah haza_.” He repeated. 

“It’s good that these are the first words you should know in Khuzdal.” 

He frowned. He knew many words in Khuzdal though he wasn’t supposed to be studying it yet. He heard his father and mother speak it all the time, over his head as if he could not piece together what this or that phrase meant. For that matter, he knew his name. And his mother’s name, Dis for sweetness, and his father’s, Arin for wisdom. 

“When you are twenty, you will begin to learn in earnest.” His father smiled. “But it isn’t wrong that you should know this and that before you begin.” 

“ _Ah haza_.” Fili repeated again dutifully. “ _Kili, ah haza._ ” 

“Mahal watch over you both.” His mother kissed his forehead and lifted Kili from his arms. “Now back to bed with you.” 

The next few months passed by in a blur. Their life went on much as it had before. His father went out with the cart and his mother stayed in with the washing. Though she paused often now to feed or change or cuddle the baby. Sometimes she left the last two up to Fili. He became adept at whisking away dirty cloths before he had to smell them. He was less accomplished at the cuddling, too small to get a proper hold and rock at the same time. Kili didn’t seem to mind. 

Then one night, it happened. The fire was already dying a little in the hearth and Kili had been settled in his crib. Fili was wheedling story after story from his father to avoid being sent to bed. His mother kept scolding, but she didn’t pluck Fili from his place on the hearthrug and tuck him in herself. 

“And what do you think the Dain said to such a thing?” His father asked. 

“No?” Fili guessed. 

“No!” His father agreed. 

A knock sounded on the door. They all froze. Fili tried to remember if anyone had ever come knocking. The few other dwarf families sometimes visited, but they were always planned things with meals set out in advance. No one showed up late in the night unannounced. 

“Sit quiet.” His father rose from the chair and picked up his axe from where he had left in leaning against the door. “Who calls?” 

“Open the door and find out.” A bellow challenged. 

“Thorin!” His mother jumped to her feet, fairly pushing his father out of the way. She flung the door open. 

The tallest dwarf Fili had ever seen stood on the other side of the door. He had a great dark beard and fierce eyes. He opened his arms and Fili’s mother threw herself into them with a joyful noise. 

“Too long have we been parted.” Thorin held Fili’s mother tightly. 

“You travel too much.” She scolded. “You should stay in one place a decade or two.” 

“Perhaps I will.” 

“Come, sit and have a bit of ale.” Fili’s father held out a hand for Thorin’s cloak. 

“I will, but first I should like to see my sister-sons. I fear I have already left it too long.” Thorin strode towards Fili, towering over him. “You are Fili?” 

“Yes.” Fili stared upward, undaunted. “Your belt looks like Mama’s.” 

“As it should. It’s embossed with the crest of our family.” Thorin leaned down a little. “Do you know your lineage?” 

“I am Fili, son of Dis, daughter of the Thrain, third of that name, son of Thror, son of Dain, son of Nain, the second of that name, son of Oin, son of Thorin, first of that name, son of Thrain, son of Nain, the first of that name and then five Durins, back to the Deathless.” Fili took a deep breath. “I am also the son of Arin, son of Darin-” 

“I think that’s enough.” Thorin put a heavy hand on Fili’s shoulder. “Someone has taught you well.” 

“He listens well.” Fili’s father offered over a pint of ale which Thorin took readily. 

“And is this my other sister-son?” Thorin asked, peering into the cradle where Kili slept. “I had not yet heard the chosen name before I set out.” 

“His name is Kili.” Fili put a hand on the cradle. “ _Ah haza._ ” 

“ _Ta haza._ ” Thorin agreed. “ _Ah haze-chun. Tan ach ah haze-chun._ ” 

“Don’t confuse him.” Fili’s mother tsked. “You know he hasn’t begun his study yet.” 

“He said that Kili is his sister-son and I am too.” Fili declared. 

“A sharp one.” Thorin smile was slight, but there. “Why do neither of them carry our forefathers’ names?” 

“Because one can never have enough laughter and joy.” Fili’s mother lifted her chin. “If you had the good sense to travel with your family, then perhaps you would have had a say.” 

“Nonsense.” Thorin peered into Kili’s blanket. “You’ll do as you want as always if I’m there to protest or not, sister. Fine looking lad. He’s got the Durin hair, I see.” 

“Just so.” 

“Are you hungry?” Fili’s father asked. He stood back from the scene, watchful. 

“Food would be welcome.” 

No one said a word about Fili going to bed. He perched quiet as a mouse on the stool, watching as his mother warmed a pot of rabbit stew and listening as Thorin recounted his journey. Fili’s father didn’t speak, only filled Thorin’s beer when it ran empty and offered up pipeweed when the food was gone. 

“Will you stay?” Fili’s mother finally asked. 

“Not in Pelargir, but Linhir is only a day’s ride away and I know of work to be had there.” Thorin puffed at the pipe politely, but set it aside soon after. “I will bide there awhile.” 

“I have heard Gloin stopped there recently. Did he stay on?” His mother asked. 

“So it appears. I’ve heard he courts a woman though I don’t know her name or parentage.” The last of blue smoke curled out from his nose. “A wedding would be a good thing. There aren’t enough of them these days.” 

Kili let out a whine then, a precursor to tears. Fili reached between the bars to quiet him, but it was too late. Their mother was upon them. 

“Fili! What are you doing still awake?” She picked him up against his protests. “You’ll be a right mess in the morning, my Beryl.” 

“Beryl?” Thorin lifted an eyebrow. 

“For his hair.” She rubbed a hand over Fili’s back soothing now instead of tsking. “My yellow gem.” 

“Not much of a nickname for a boy.” 

“And did not our mother cluck over you and call you her pearl?” She sniffed. “Maybe you are a mighty warrior to the rest, but I remember a boy with dirty knees, forever chasing after bats.” 

“Speak no more.” Thorin lifted his mug to his lips to hide his smile. “All your words are nonsense.” 

She carried Fili into his room and tucked him under his furs. 

“He’s better than the stories.” He told her as she brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. 

“I think so too, my Beryl.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Please?” Kili tugged at Fili’s tunic. At fifteen, Kili barely crested a foot and a half tall. At least a quarter of that was a mop of dark curls and wide dark eyes that made even their mother cave to his whims. 

“I’ve got to finish this page.” Fili told him, not daring to look up and get caught out by a pouting look. “I’ll get in trouble if I don’t finish.” 

“But I am very bored.” Kili pointed out as though it was a compelling argument. 

“Just sit quiet a few more minutes.” 

“But-” 

“Patience!” Fili told him. “Come, sit beside me. When my nib reaches the end of the page then I’m done.” 

Kili scrambled up beside him on the bench, leaning in to watch. The quill bit into the parchment as Fili dutifully copied sentences and paragraphs. 

“I know that one!” Kili interrupted, talking around the thumb that had found its way into his mouth. “That’s me.” 

“Not you.” Fili shook his head. “See this slant? It’s just means regular laughter. _Noin gogen Temba kili_. Noin heard Temb’s laughter. Then he said, stop sucking your thumb.” 

“It doesn’t say that.” Kili scowled. 

“No, but I do.” Fili wrote out another line. 

“What else does it say?” 

“Does it matter? You’re not supposed to be looking at these yet. Father says it corrupts the language if you learn it too young.” Fili had heard that argument enough before he turned twenty. “Be still, I’m almost done.” 

“Tell me what it says and I’ll be quiet.” 

“Promise?” 

Kili nodded earnestly. 

“Fine. It says that Noin heard Temb’s laughter and fell in love. He crafted for her a necklace of shining stars and married her. They had one child, a daughter named Boin. Temb died in childbirth and Noin mourned her. He crafted a statue in her likeness and hung the necklace on it. It still stands before the house of Linin’s line, three levels below and down the fourth corridor.” 

“What levels?” Kili asked. “What corridors?” 

“The ones in Erebor.” Fili shrugged. “This chronicles the line of Linin and the line of Sori. Someone reading it there would have known exactly where the book meant.” 

“It doesn’t mean anything now.” Kili slumped down on the bench, eagerness drained all at once. “We’ll never see a statue of Temb.” 

“It’s probably ugly.” Fili swallowed hard, putting his arm around Kili’s shoulders. “Linin’s line is supposed to be small nosed.” 

“I want to see all the things they tell us about.” Kili turned his face into Fili’s tunic. “Don’t you?” 

“Of course, I do. But we can’t, so there’s no use crying over it.” 

“I’m not crying!” Kili protested. “I’m too big to cry.” 

“You’re not even half-pint size yet.” Fili teased, not about to say that sometimes he still got a bit weepy. He was only twenty, after all. The only person that thought him grown up was Kili. “Let’s go.” 

“But you didn’t finish.” Kili pointed to the last few lines left. 

“Forget it. I’ll do it later.” He slid off the bench and held out his arms so Kili could leap off it into his arms. “What do you think? To the park?” 

“Can we make boats?” 

“Only if you promise not to chase after them this time. I’m not fishing you out of the pond scum if you fall in.” 

“Yes, you will.” Kili wiggled out of Fili’s grasp, running off to get their coats. “We’re going out Mama!” 

“Don’t be late!” She called down. 

They had moved from the apartment when Kili was still learning to walk. Fili liked the row house with it’s spindly stairs. Mama had given up on washing and taken up needle making. Papa sold her delicate wares alongside his pots and pans and they did well. Money wasn’t so lean and everyone breathed a little easier. Kili had never known the very lean times and Fili was glad of it. 

“Come here.” Fili commanded, fastening the buttons up Kili’s coat until the fur rested snugly around his neck, then plopped a warm hat over his curls. “It’s cold out.” 

“Done?” Kili fidgeted. “Can we go?” 

“Done.” Fili shrugged into his own layers as they went out. 

The new house was a few streets up from the docks. Outside the air was pleasantly briney instead of overpoweringly fishy. The streets were full of men and women going about their business. Fili had grown adept at dodging careless boots and low slinging bags. Small as he was, Kili had to be twice as careful. They moved quickly, accessing the best route and dancing their way across the cobblestones. 

The park was really more of a generous street with a few trees planted to relieve the endless sprawl of buildings. A decorative pond had been dug into the center of it. A thin layer of ice lay across the top, but Fili smashed it easily with the heel of his boot while Kili gathered up sticks, nutshells and leaves. 

“That’s enough for a navy.” Fili laughed when Kili set his haul between them. “We do have to be home for supper, you know.” 

“I want to make something big.” Kili took out the small knife he’d been allowed only this past year. “A galley maybe.” 

“Not sure that will float.” Fili twisted off the stems of leaves, braiding them together for rope. 

“Make me some sails.” Kili commanded. “Big ones.” 

“I am not your servant.” 

“Please?” Kili didn’t look up from his careful whittling. 

“Fine. But don’t blame me if it doesn’t sail.” 

“It will.” 

The construction took the better part of an hour, but when they were done it was a fine looking thing with a gently rounded hull and three masts. The sails were patchworked leaves that fluttered with every passing breeze. 

“You should float it.” Kili pressed it into Fili’s hands. “You’re better at getting them started.” 

Fili took his time, cradling the ship in his hands as he rested it on the freezing surface. His fingers were going a little numb by the time he let go. The ship listed a little to one side, but stayed up. Tentatively, he gave it a soft push. 

“Look!” Kili clung to him in excitement. “It floats!” 

It stayed above water for several long minutes, drifting from one end of the pond to the other. Eventually though it’s tilt became more and more pronounced. It took on water and turned, sinking to the bottom. 

“It did very well.” Fili watched until the last ripples died away. 

“And now it’ll be at the bottom with all its lost treasure.” Kili flung a few sticks into the water. “Do you think when the pond dries up in the summer, it will still be there?” 

“Maybe?” Fili shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.” 

“Do we have to go home now?” 

Fili squinted up at the sun, still tracking it’s way into the West. 

“Not just yet. Want to practice for a bit?” 

“Yes!” 

Instead of sticks, Fili gathered stones. He tossed the first one high at Kili, who jumped halfway up a tree to catch it, then tossed it back with a somersault. After that they were off, juggling rocks between them as easy as breathing. They were already well matched, Kili using his speed to make up for his size. 

The intense gymnastic scrapping had them laughing and pink cheeked, but it wasn’t fun and games. It was Thorin who first taught them these quick runs that would one day include weapons of every kind. With a sword or axe, their tumbling would become a dangerous dance. Already, Fili had a practice sword carved of heavy wood though he had not yet begun his lessons in earnest. 

What enemy they might one day fight was explained in vague terms. Orcs and trolls, perhaps. Certainly any cutthroat that thought a dwarf child an easy target would learn their lesson soon enough. Once Fili had broken the hand of a full grown man who had attempted to part him from his purse. It had only contained a few coppers, but Fili hadn’t been willing to give them up to avoid a fight. 

The sun sank lower, the chill growing. With a sharp whistle, Fili brought the game to a halt. Jumping down from a high perch, Kili landed with his arms around Fili’s neck and legs wrapped around his waist. 

“Am I to play horse for you today as well?” Fili asked, eyebrow raised. 

“I’m tired.” Kili clung closer. “I don’t want to walk.” 

“You’ll not make much of a fighter if walking a few blocks proves daunting.” Fili reached back to ruffle Kili’s hair, the curls tangling around his fingers. “Now where’s your hat?” 

“Left it by the sidewalk.” A dirty finger pointed outward. 

“I see it.” 

When he lifted the soft cloth from the ground, it felt heavier than before. Curious to see what Kili might have squirreled away inside, he found six silver coins and ten coppers. Fili poured them into his hand. 

“Did you find these?” Fili asked, already sure of the answer.

“No.” Kili peered over his shoulder. “Can we keep it?” 

“Yes.” He closed his hand around the gain and swallowed back a sudden spike of anger. 

How easy it was to imagine humans pausing in their business to watch two dwarf children playing at acrobatics. They assumed they were urchins or actors, pulling tricks to earn a little bit of coin. Fili slipped the money into his purse. What did these wellfed humans know of warfare? What did it matter if they took mock battle for tricks? 

Yet his stomach knotted as he turned toward home. 

“What should we buy with it?” Kili took back his hat, hanging onto Fili with only his legs. 

“We’ll go to the market tomorrow.” Fili said absently. “Maybe we’ll find you a hat that stays on.” 

“I don’t want another hat.” 

“Then keep the one you’ve got on your head.” He snapped and instantly regretted it. 

“I got hot.” Kili sniffed. 

“Sorry, sorry.” He hoisted Kili up higher, onto his shoulders. “Play scout for me.” 

“Oh! I see the cart in front of the house.” Instantly distracted, Kili strained upward. “Papa must be home. I don’t see that cauldron, guess he sold it, but there’s still a row of silverware.” 

“Mama won’t be pleased.” Fili stepped sideways to avoid being trampled by an overeager horse. 

“Uncle’s pony!” Kili practically bounced off Fili’s shoulders in excitement. “I thought he was coming next week.” 

“Truly?” Fili strained to catch a glance himself and sure enough the speckled coat of Thorin’s shaggy pony brushed against Toma’s greying muzzle. 

He took the last block at a run, Kili whooping above him like a wild thing and the crowd making bemused room for them. By the time they reached the steps, Thorin was outside. He had his hands crossed over his chest and stern look on his face. Fili skittered to a stop and Kili hopped to the ground. 

“I was looking for _ah haze-chuns_.” Thorin raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Have you seen them?” 

“Here we are Uncle!” Kili bounced on his toes. 

“Where?” Thorin made a show of glancing around. 

“Here!” Kili leapt upwards again and this time Thorin grabbed him straight out of the air, tucking him under one arm. 

“I’ve caught a live one, sister!” Thorin called back inside. “Shall we boil or roast him?” 

“No!” Kili wiggled and giggled. 

Thorin carried Kili inside, Fili trailing behind. 

“Oh that one?” Their mother poked her head out from the kitchen. “Best let it go, too small for more than few mouthfuls.” 

“As you wish.” Thorin bowed, setting Kili down as he went. 

“I’m not too small!” Kili insisted, straining up on tiptoes. “I’ve grown an inch this year.” 

Fili went to get an extra chair from the study, leaving Kili talking at a gallop. He was surprised to find his father there, puffing away at his pipe. The study was mostly his mother’s territory, signs of her industry spread across every surface. 

“Uncle is here.” Fili told him as he brushed tiny flecks of metal from the cushion. 

“I know it.” His father blew a lopsided smoke ring that traveled up to the ceiling. “I don’t think he’ll mind if I linger here a little longer. Did you have a good day?” 

“Yes, we sailed a ship and practiced a bit.” He stared down at the chair, eyes hot. 

“What is it?” His father held out an arm. “Come now, you’re not too old yet to sit on my knee and tell all.” 

“I am too old.” But Fili wanted very much to take that comfort, so he latched the door against Kili’s curiosity and sat on his father’s lap. One arm came around him, reassuring and warm. 

“What happened?” 

“It’s stupid.” He sniffed. “But...we were practicing and Kili threw his hat off, I guess. Some men thought we were putting on a show for money and left us some. I should just be happy we got coins, shouldn’t I?” 

His father was silent a long while, taking another puff on his pipe. The smoke tinged the air blue-grey and smelled like the forest deep in Autumn. 

“We are strangers in a strange land.” His father tapped out his pipe into a bowl on the table. “You cannot expect men to understand our ways just as we don’t understand theirs. If they are foolish enough to mistake your war games for acrobatics, then let them. It is hardly the worst of slights that will come your way. Be merry in the face of insult, my Beryl. It is the best revenge.” 

“Even if I’m angry?” 

“Especially when you’re angry.” His father drew him closer. “I know you love your Uncle and that is as it should be. He’s a good man, a great warrior and though circumstances have robbed him of a throne, our king. What I cannot abide is his anger.” 

“Is he very angry?” Fili thought of his Uncle’s gentle teasing and sweeping embraces. 

“At his heart burns a fury that will never be quenched.” His father shook his head. “Every day he wakes to thoughts of Erebor. Every blow of his hammer, every word that passed between him and another, those are only distractions from the revenge that he craves. We were a lively people once, full of good song, ale and riches. What good can come of a happy folk turning bitter?” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Nay, you wouldn’t. Not yet.” His father kissed his forehead. “Know this, my Beryl. Laugh while you can. Drink deep of your cups, relish your dinner and revel in the company of your family. We named you joy because that is what you bring us. I would never see that light dimmed in you. Promise me you’ll hold onto that as long as you can.” 

“I promise.” He said dutifully. 

“Good, now go on down and get your supper.” 

“Aren’t you coming?” He hopped down, remembering to retrieve the chair. 

“In a few minutes.” His father picked up the pipe again, running the stem over his fingers. 

“All right?” Kili asked when Fili came back down the stairs. 

“Fine.” He put the chair down at the table. “Papa will be down soon.” 

Fili kept to his promise and enjoyed his meal greatly. They all sang together around the fire afterward and Fili went to bed already feeling much better. He shared his room with Kili, two beds tucked into the room under the stairs. It was a cozy room with it’s own little fireplace and hooks for their coats on the door. Sometimes they pretended it was a proper cave bedroom with stone walls and thick tapestries just like in the stories their mother told them about her childhood room. 

“Fili?” Kili asked through a yawn just as Fili was closing his eyes. 

“What?” 

“Tell me a story.” 

“You don’t need another story, imp. It’s late and I’m tired.” 

“I’m not ready to sleep.” 

“Just shut your eyes and it will come over you.” 

“Fiiiiliiiiiii-” Kili began to whine. 

“Fine! Fine.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “What story?” 

“Tell me the one of Gurin the Archer again.” 

“Again?” Fili turned on his back, looking up at their slanted ceiling. 

“Please?” 

“All right, all right. Let’s see, once their was a great dwarf warrior called Gurin and he lived with his brothers Turin and Zurin near a great gold mine-” 

“Wait!” Kili scrambled between off his bed. “I can’t hear it from over there.” 

“You can hear me just fine!” But he didn’t protest any further as Kili climbed under the furs to snuggle up to him. It was more comfortable that way, keeping out the winter’s chill that threatened to invade even with the fire blazing. “Ready now?” 

“Yes.” Kili buried the cold point of his nose in Fili’s neck. “Tell on.” 

“Well, Gurin wasn’t a very good warrior. He never practiced with his sword and there was no axe that suited him.” Fili idly stroked a hand through Kili’s hair. “His brother Turin was the best swordsman in the land and Zurin the greatest with an axe, but Gurin just mined. Everyone had just about given up on him. ‘Let the lad mine’, said his mother, ‘the other two will protect him’” 

“And they did.” Kili said firmly. 

“Aye. They were good brothers and took care of each other, but there came a day where Turin had to go to the village to trade some barleywine for food and Zurin had to go into the woods to check their traps. ‘Be careful,’ they said to Gurin, ‘stay inside.’ And so he did. Until he heard a great noise.” 

The familiar story of Gurin taking on the cave troll with only an ancient bow and arrow lulled Kili to sleep and soon Fili followed him there. He dreamed about the ocean, the great boats rocking away from the docks and outward on their journeys. In the dream, he went with them and watched his family grow smaller and smaller on the horizon. 

The dream woke him with start, sweat pouring off him where Kili had burrowed into his side. As quietly as he could, he slipped out from under the covers and got dressed. The house was quiet and still. Only the first buttery light of dawn slipped through the windows. Early, but not too early. Resolved, he drew on his coat and went out into the morning cold. The market was a long walk, but there were few people out. He made good time. 

Despite the early hour, there were already stalls open for business. He spent a copper on a mug of hot cider and a fresh roll, then ventured deeper into the warren of bright fruits and dusty books. He found what he was looking for nearly at the end of one row, a weapon’s vendor first lifting up the awning. They were human weapons, of course. The kind of sword his father said he would never wield, but he wasn’t there for a sword. 

“Excuse me.” He said with a cough. The vendor turned around, missing him entirely on the first glance. “Down here, sir.” 

“Aye, there you are. My apologies, little master.” The vendor smiled, showing off two gold teeth. “What can I do for you?” 

Fili explained as best he could until the vendor nodded and went into the back. He returned with just the thing and they dickered good naturedly over the price. In the end, Fili handed over every last one of cursed coins and took his prize back home. The household had woken by then, his mother stirring a pot of porridge in the kitchen and Kili, still in his long sleeping tunic, was bundled on their father’s lap stealing sips of hot tea. 

“And where have you been?” His father asked. 

“I went to the market.” Fili set the package down on the table. “I wanted it to be a surprise. Go on, _ah haza_.” 

“Really?” Kili’s fingers were fast on the bundled cloth. The bow was small, intended for a human child, but still too large for Kili. There was no quiver to match it, but Fili was good with leather. He’d make one easily enough. “Oh!”

“I bought it with yesterday’s coin.” He said, perhaps a little defiantly, but his father gave him a pleased nod. “There’s only a few arrows, but enough that we can figure out how to make more.” 

“I love it!” Kili crossed over the table to jump into Fili’s arms, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Fili grinned into Kili’s curls. 

“A bow?” Thorin rumbled, coming out from the washroom. “Elven weapon that.” 

“It isn’t!” Kili protested, rushing to pick the bow back up and hugging it to him as if it might be snatched away. “Gorin had one and Dalin the second!” 

“Boy has a point.” Their father said mildly. “Nothing wrong with having a distance weapon or two about.” 

“What would you know of it?” Thorin said crossly. 

“Not as much as you.” Their father put his feet up on his table. “A good gift Fili, better if it teaches you a new craft. There’s always work for a fletcher.” 

“No sister-son of mine-” Thorin began. 

“What’s all this then?” Their mother bustled in, thumping down the great pot full of porridge. “The two of you are worse than the lads, I swear it.” 

“Look, Mama!” Kili held up his bow. “Look what Fili got for me.” 

“Oh, my.” She took the bow from his hands, examining it. “That’s a fine bit of work. And with your sharp eyes, you’ll make a good archer. Just like Gorin.” 

“But-” Thorin began again. 

“What could be more dwarfish than the weapon of one of our greatest warriors?” She put her hands on her hips. “Have you forgotten the old stories already, brother of mine?” 

“I forget nothing.” Thorin heaved an aggrieved sigh. “Give it here.” 

She put the bow in his hands and if it looked too large next to Kili, it was a toy in Thorin’s hands. He turned it gently over and over then kissed the polished wood once. 

“Malhah malhan manhal.” The old weapon’s blessing was solemn. “Keep my sister-son safe, little branch.” 

Kili beamed as the bow was returned to him and Thorin sat down to eat without another word.


	3. Chapter 3

“I believe this belongs to you.” The baker’s son threw Fili to the ground. 

“Brute!” His mother yelled. 

“Be lucky the dwarfling only suffered a few blows!” The baker’s son snarled. “I caught him kissing my sister behind our home, his tiny hands all over her. If I hadn’t been sure that that was all he did, he’d be dead!” 

“You’ll want to be getting out of my house.” His father stood over him, cool anger coming off him in waves and one hand on his great axe. 

“By the Seven, I do. Filthy hovel.” The boy spat at Fili, missing by a few inches. “Stay away from me and mine, wretch or I’ll see you to your grave.” 

The door slammed shut and brought Kili running in from the back, hands still covered in soot and grease. 

“What happened?” He demanded as their mother helped Fili to sit up. He hurt all over where steel toed boots had caught his ribs and blows rang in his head. 

“It was just a kiss.” Fili said weakly, pressing a hand to his aching chest. “It wasn’t...she was just taking pity on me.” 

“Pity?” His mother pulled away. “What did you do?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” It took an age for him to find his feet and limp to their room. No one tried to help him or stop him. 

The cozy room under the stairs closed in on him. What had once fit two children comfortably was an awkward squeeze for two adolescents. At fifty-five, Fili had reached what would be his full height, a respectable four and a half feet. Lately Kili had been threatening to surpass that. They spent a lot of time elbow to elbow, unable to quite get out of each other’s way. 

Fili kicked off his boots and crawled into his bed with a groan. He wanted to travel in time and undo the whole terrible day. The world was uglier today than it had been yesterday. He didn’t really sleep. Everything played out over and over as he tried to find the sense of it. 

“Are you still awake?” Kili came in hours later, silhouette dark in the door. 

“Yes.” There was no use pretending. 

“Tell me.” 

“Kili, please-” 

“Tell me.” The order was cool, a warning. 

“It was stupid.” He swallowed hard. “Her name is Magu. She’s always been kind to me. I think because she’s not from around here either. Her father moved them here from Rohan to follow a business deal only a few years ago and she doesn’t like it. Rohan is all open she says, wood instead of marble. We talked a few minutes here, few minutes there when I stopped in on cold mornings for a hot roll. It wasn’t anything.” 

“Lot of fuss over nothing.” Kili said darkly. He still hadn’t budged from the doorway, shadowing his expression. 

“It wasn’t anything then.” Fili amended. “But the last few weeks, her mother has been sick and she was lonely. A few minutes became an hour or two. I liked her.” 

“You liked her.” Kili repeated as though the words were sour milk in his mouth. 

“She was kind and pretty though I doubt human men would think so. Short and a stout.” Nearly dwarfen. And that was the best he could do. He was a healthy young man and there weren’t exactly a bounty of dwarf children to experiment with. The closest to their age was Gimli, twenty years his junior, and then Ori, nearly thirty years his senior. “This morning, we gave up pretending that we weren’t going to chat for a while, so she took me out back and we split a sweet roll. 

“She told me that there had been a man back home. A blacksmith that could lift her straight off the ground.” He had laughed at that and said it was no great feat. He could easily lift her weight in iron and more if required. “I told her...I told her I hadn’t been with anyone because how could I? She thought that was sad. So she kissed me. Then her brother found us and beat me to a bloody pulp while she watched and said nothing.” 

“She’s a coward then.” 

“Why should she be brave?” Fili laughed ugly and rusted. “I’m nothing to her. Nothing to any of them.” 

“You’re something to me.” Kili said tightly. 

That was the last thing Kili said to him for a fortnight. The silence hurt Fili far more than his mother’s pointed comments or his father’s awkward compassion. During the days, Fili worked leather in silence, curing, cutting and embossing while Kili carved out arrow after arrow. Usually they spent the day in a near riot, elbows in each other’s ribs and one’s sentences completed in the other’s mouth. 

For the first time, Fili understood how much of his world was Kili. It was his brother that woke him in the morning, got him laughing before breakfast was in his belly and kept him in good spirits through the day. It was Kili that made up clever new lyrics to old melodies and played word games in Khuzdal. It was Kili that drew their baths every other Friday, heating the water until it could boil their skin the way Fili liked it. It was Kili who climbed into Fili’s bed on cold nights and still demanded stories. 

The silence, the lack of his brother though he sat beside him, grated like broken glass over Fili’s nerves. Every time he reached for a tool and found it out of his grasp because Kili had not nudged it toward him, Fili’s stomach dropped. 

“Why are you so angry with me?” He finally asked when he could take it no more. 

They sat side by side at their workbench, a commission for bracers lay in Fili’s hand, but he found he couldn’t carve one more notch in the terrible silence. He had no experience bearing his brother’s anger. Neither of them were prone to grudges, happier to wrestle each other until all rage had sweated from their pores. 

“Are you asking me that in earnest?” Kili set down a long black plume ready to be cut into fletchings. “Truly?” 

“Truly.” Fili ran a hand through the golden strands of his new beard. 

“What do you see when you look at me?” Kili turned to face him, full on. 

“What do you mean?” Fili blinked. “I see you.” 

“But who is that?” Kili challenged. “Look at me. Really look.” 

Trying to show willingness, Fili took his time surveying his brother. Gone was the curly mop of hair and in it’s place, proper long dark waves that settled around his shoulders. Kili wore it loose, not yet old enough to fuss with braids. Without a beard to obscure his features, the high cheekbones of their mother and soft mouth of their father stood out. His eyes were dark and lined with thick lashes. 

It was warm enough that they’d both shed their coats and belts. Kili wore only a grey tunic, smudged with dirty and stained with the oil he used to polish his arrows. His arms were already strong, muscled from drawing his bow, lifting heavy logs and assisting their father in the forge. One of Fili’s own belts, snugged tight around his hips showing off the trimness there. He sat at ease on the bench, holding himself straight for the inspection. 

“I see you.” Fili repeated, but more softly this time. 

“Do you?” Kili leaned forward, closing the space between them. “Because I think you see a child instead of a young man. I think you see a kid brother dogging your heels instead of an equal at your side.” 

“No.” He reached up, tentative, to cup Kili’s cheek in his hand. The skin was smooth under his fingers. “I’m not so blind.” 

“Then why am I dismissed? Why do you insist that you couldn’t have what you wanted if you just reached out?” 

“I never allowed myself to think of it.” He had anyway, in taut fleeting moments. How could he not let the thought cross his mind as they bathed, Kili’s back slick with water and hair clinging to his olive skin. “You’re my brother. I’m meant to take care of you.” 

“So you are. But as you shield me, so let me take care of you.” Kili kissed his forehead, both eyelids and the tip of his nose. “My Beryl. Do you know why Mama called you that?” 

“My hair.” Fili choked out. “She had a beryl ring the same shade when she was a girl.” 

“Maybe that’s what she says, but I know why.” Kili’s lips ghosted over Fili’s now, a breath’s distance separating them. “Yellow beryl is for hope. It is relief from heavy burdens. It’s meant for bringing stability and optimism.” 

“Same old song.” He said, not daring to bridge the last critical gap. “She named me for joy.” 

“She named you because you are joy. My joy. ” 

Fili never felt adept with language though he spoke Common and Khuzdal well. Words could lie and slip away. But just then, quite suddenly everything lay before him crystal clear. He knew what he wanted and it was there for the taking. 

“Then let me call you Ruby.” He could smell Kili now, the familiar tang of sweat, the sweet note of the oil he used on his hair and the faint whisper of sawdust that lingered on his hands. 

“Ruby is passion’s stone.” Kili’s right hand slid behind Fili’s neck. “It tells you to reach for what makes you happiest.” 

“So it does.” Fili touched his lips to the corner of Kili’s mouth. Their noses brushed together. “That’s always been you. My Ruby.” 

“Fili.” Kili chuffed a laugh between them. “Where has this romantic soul been hiding?” 

“I’m not romantic.” He protested, but it was lost when he leaned forward in earnest to take his prize. Kili kissed better than the baker’s daughter. He wasn’t shy or nervous or pitying. Kili wanted him, straddled his lap as their kisses grew deeper. Fili’s hands strayed to Kili’s waist to hold him there. 

“I want to touch you.” Kili pulled from the kiss to whisper directly into Fili’s ear. “Tonight, in our room. We’ll push our beds together. I want to touch you.” 

“You’ve thought about this.” 

“Oh, yes.” Kili kissed his cheek, nuzzled into his sparse beard. “And I’ve read about it when I could. There’s a book Papa keeps under his bed.” 

“I know it.” Fili’s cheeks flooded with heat. “I read it once too.” 

“I want to try everything.” Kili ground down. 

“Whatever you want.” Fili laughed, breathless and deliriously happy. “For the rest of our lives.” 

“Boys!” Their mother’s voice cut through the intimacy of the moment and they sprung apart as if struck by lightening. “Come quick!” 

The ran inside, flushed and tripping over each other as they came into the kitchen. Gloin was there and Balin, setting out heavy trunks. The room had been stripped of their mother’s knickknacks and pots. 

“What’s going on?” Fili came to a halt, Kili jostling into his back. 

“There are rumors of a dwarf thief in the city.” Gloin tucked a pile of linens into one chest. “The mayor has decided that all dwarfen homes are to be searched for the missing articles.” 

“There’s no thief here.” Kili protested. “Why should we not take our turn and be done with it?” 

“Oh, lads.” Balin tumbled apples into a bag. “It will not stop at searching.” 

“This happened once before.” The memory eluded him, but Fili was certain. “When I was very small.” 

“Eastfold.” Their mother opened cupboard after cupboard, bundling up plates and mugs in soft cloth. “You were seven. A dwarf said something lewd about a man’s daughter. There was a fight. Then a riot. We left in the middle of the night before they could run us out.” 

“But we’ve done nothing wrong!” Kili laid his hand on the table that had held so many family dinners. 

“Make no mistake.” Balin pat Kili loosely on the shoulder. “This is not your home, lad. We live among them, but not as one of them.” 

“Why do they hate us?” The words stuck in Kili’s throat. 

“Aye, that’s the worst of it.” Gloin shut the first, overfull trunk. “They don’t. They only know that we’re different and when things go sour, it’s easier to blame someone on the outside.” 

“Dis?” Their father called from the door. 

“Arin!” She ran from the kitchen to bury herself in his arms. “Have you heard the rumors?” 

“Spreading like wildfire.” He shook his head.

“Do we have to go?” She glanced back at Kili. “Perhaps we could just...” 

“I would love nothing more than to think that our friends would protect us.” Their father rubbed her back. “Maybe this will blow over in a few months. I don’t know. I won’t risk it.” 

“Thorin would have us move on to Emyn Uial.” Gloin cut in. “There’s a town of men there that trade briskly with hobbits and dwarfs alike. There will be work there, enough for all of us for now.”

“Go pack up your things.” Their mother hadn’t stirred, order muffled in their father’s chest. “The faster we go, the easier it will be.” 

Like a puppet, Fili moved jerkily forward into the little room that had been his and Kili’s for so long. He took up the pack he used when they visited with relations. It was enough to fit his clothing, the roll of his blankets and the few personal possessions he couldn’t bare to part with. He could hear Kili doing the same. Had they talked of these beds just minutes ago? 

“It doesn’t matter.” Kili said. 

“What doesn’t matter?” Fili turned, caught out not by the emptied walls and shelves, but the fierce look in his brother’s eyes. 

“None of this. Not this house, not this city. What has it given to us that we cannot take with us?” Kili picked up his quiver, buckling it firmly around him. “We’ve been home to each other all our lives. That cannot be taken from us.” 

“No, it can’t.” Fili smiled, though it was only a shadow of his usual grin. He drew Kili to him. “We will walk rough for a long while, but when we reach our journey’s end, I’ll make good that promise of a bed.” 

“You will or I’ll have you against a wall.” Kili growled. “I’ve been waiting to rutting long for you, you daft goat.”

Impossibly, laughter welled in Fili’s chest and spilled out his mouth. Kili held him tighter and kissed the chuckles from his lips.


	4. Chapter 4

“Here you go, boys.” The blacksmith dropped two purses into their outstretched hands. “Good week’s work. I wish I had more for you.” 

“You know where to find us if you do.” Fili sketched a rough bow. 

They left the forge behind, breathing in the fresh air and taking their time returning to the crooked house at the outskirts of the town. A few people greeted them as they went, smiles crossing the faces of a few. Here they were welcomed into the taverns where their happy songs. Their easy natures won them friends among human and dwarf kind alike. 

“A good day’s work.” Fili decreed, slinging an arm around Kili’s shoulders. 

“You miss your skins, you can’t fool me.” Kili obligingly stooped, having finally grown those last fatal inches that brought him up taller than his brother. “We should try the tanner’s next time.” 

“You never do well there.” Fili bumped Kili’s hip with his own. “Better we make more now and do as we please later.” 

“How much more do we need?” 

“Three months ought to do it.” The thought of their own rooms, above a shop or maybe the empty house down the street from their parents kept them both in good spirits these days. “If we’re careful.” 

“I’m always careful.” Kili tossed his hair in mimic of a highborn girl. “Careful to let you do the minding.” 

“Lazy spoiled cat.” Fili accused. 

They spent the rest of the walk home, trying to trip each other up with little success. By the time they reached their street, it had become a dance. 

“I won’t allow it!” The yell took them off guard and they stopped abruptly. 

“Was that Papa?” Kili asked, wide-eyed. “I’ve never heard him carry on like that.” 

“It is not yours to allow!” And that was most certainly Thorin. 

In a quick hand gesture, Fili silenced Kili. Together they reached the window in silence, hunkering down to avoid being seen. 

“They are my children!” Their father roared. “They aren’t warriors or soldiers. Only boys who still wheedle sweet cheese out of their mother and tell each other stories at night.” 

“You have not seen them on hunts with me. Fili is fierce and Kili never misses his mark. They are my heirs, Arin. Warriors through and one day they will sit on the throne of Erebor.” 

“What day is that?” Arin growled. “What do you imagine has happened? Some portents were read and you think that you can march back up to the great doors and knock? That some crown awaits you inside? What is left of Erebor after all this time even if the foul lizard is dead? It won’t be what you remember.” 

“Then I will make it greater!” Something smashed. Perhaps Thorin’s fist pounding against the table sent a plate to the floor. “Should I let others reach our homeland? Should I lead us in circles around the corrupt kingdoms of man as servants? We were lords once.” 

“No, Thorin. You were a lord. As you have never let me forget since, I was only a tinker.” Their father no longer sounded angry, only resigned. “Erebor lives strong in my heart, but its riches were never mine. If you take my children from me, then you take the only wealth I’ve ever possessed.” 

“There is no taking. They are men by all reckoning, free to make their own choice.” 

“They stand in awe of you.” Their father paced by the window, his shadow falling over them. “And they are good, loyal boys. They would follow you into Mordor if that is what you asked of them.” 

“And what do you think would happen if I did not ask?” Thorin’s anger had abated, something like amusement creeping in. “They will find it out and follow us. They know to where their allegiance lies and they would not be left behind. Rage against it if you must, but they will come.” 

The conversation drifted into quieter tones, leaving Fili straining to catch anything. 

“Where do you think we’re going?” Kili whispered. 

“Erebor.” Fili said as if it were a prayer. 

“Truly?” Kili’s eyes widened. “Let’s get inside then before Papa talks Uncle out of it.” 

“I think Uncle already won.” Fili stood, pulling Kili up with him. “Remember, we heard nothing.” 

“I know, I know.” Kili winked. “Act surprised.” 

They don’t need to do much acting at all in the end. Backlit by the hearthfire, their Uncle had never looked so sure of purpose and noble. There was nothing teasing or light in how he spoke to them. He outlined the nature of their quest, the dangers they’d face and how long it might be before they saw their parents again. 

“But the reward is unrivaled.” Thorin pinned Fili with a look thick with meaning. “We will win back our home, the pride and wealth of our people.” 

Fili looked to Kili then. Not for the first time, they spoke without so much as a nod or grunt. Their agreement was instant and absolute. 

“Give us the contracts then, Uncle.” Fili held out his hand. “And we’ll leave when the ink is dry.” 

“ _Ah haze-chuns_.” Thorin did not smile, but they heard his praise in the way he clasped their hands. “There is no need to be so hasty. There is time yet as I assemble the rest of our party. The wizard Gandalf comes to the hills in a fortnight to aid us.” 

Each signed their names with a matching flourish and drank deeply of ale that night. Their mother came in with a roast chicken and they ate in merriment though their father never did reappear. 

“Are you coming to bed?” Kili asked when Thorin had taken up his coat and gone back into the night. 

“Soon.” Fili brushed a kiss over the corner of Kili’s mouth. “Warm the bedclothes for me.” 

“If you linger too long, I will warm more than that on my own.” Kili grumbled, before taking the stairs two at a time up to their attic bedroom. 

“Is there any chicken left?” Fili asked, poking his head around the kitchen doorway. “Only I thought Papa might want something to eat.” 

“Your father is being a stubborn idiot.” His mother shook her head. “Take him a plate if you like. He’ll thank you for it even if he doesn’t eat it.” 

“Stubborn about what?” Fili asked, all innocence. 

“Better to ask him.” She declared, putting a laden plate into Fili’s hands. “Go on then.” 

There was no study in this house, only the courtyard and Fili found his father there, smoking his pipe. He offered up the plate first which his father took without comment. Fili sat beside him and tried to form a question. 

“You’re going.” His father said before Fili found the words he was looking for. 

“Yes.” 

“That’s a long journey for a young dwarf.” The pipe was unceremoniously upended, burning leaves drifted to the cobblestone. “You’ll come back grown, make no mistake about it.” 

“I’m already grown.” He protested. 

“I thought myself grown the day Smaug came to the mountain. Wasn’t I ninety-two and didn’t I have a respectable beard already?” His father rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Yet, I was a child again when his flames swept through our halls. Did I ever tell you about that day?” 

“No.” Fili said with some surprise. He felt as though he must have heard the story of their exile a thousand times, but it was his mother’s story and Thorin’s that he knew. “Tell me now then.” 

“I was in the merchant’s hall when the alarm was sounded.” Crossing his arms over his broad chest, his father cast his eyes skyward. “The ground shook and everything was instantly chaos. No one knew what to do. I started closing up my father’s shop as if I were going home for the night. I thought I would be back the next morning, somehow.

“I took a back way to my family home. The mountain trembled and terrible noise filled the air. It took me hours to find the doorway that stood only a half-mile from the merchant’s hall. Rubble had collapsed in front of the door. I moved rocks that should have taken three or four dwarfs to shift. Fear gave me strength that day. 

“But it was all for nothing.” His hands balled to fists in his lap. “My mother and father...their deaths were swift. The ceiling of the common room had collapsed upon them. My sister. You would have liked her. Elin, they called her. It’s her face I see in yours, my son. Her hair was golden and her cheeks ever rosy. She had dozens of suitors though she was barely of age. 

“The debris had pinned her down, but I was able to free her. I carried her along with what few belongings I could salvage. She lived three more days. Long enough to see the ruin of our people. I was never sure if she succomned to her wounds or her sorrow.” 

“Why do you never speak of her?” Fili had moved closer to his father, one hand tentatively moving to his shoulder. “All those stories and never once have I heard her name.”

“It broke my heart, lad. Even thinking of it now...” He tugged at the single braid of his beard. “If you lost Kili, would his name be ever on your tongue or would you covet it as a treasure never to be shown to anyone?” 

“I-” Fili started then stopped. There was nothing without Kili. To imagine living without him was to imagine the end of all things. “But it’s different. We’re...different.” 

“Your mother thinks that you’ll grow out of it.” His father snorted. “I’ve always told her that you were lost the day Kili was old enough to say your name.” 

“You know?” Fili’s hand dropped. 

“Of course, we know. We’re old, not stupid.” His father chided. “The way I see it, you had little choice. Maybe Kili...but no. It is as it is meant to be. I have always told you that I value you and your brother more than any gem. Remember that, if nothing else. Your love for Kili matters more than any stone or throne. Listen to your own heart before you listen to Thorin.” 

“What has he done that makes you mistrust him so?” 

“Nothing.” His father stamped out the last of the smoldering embers lingering on the cobblestone. “Only that we’ve never agreed on how life is to be lived, but who does? Go on to bed now. Tomorrow will be busy.” 

“Thank you for telling me about Elin.” He gave his father a quick one armed hug. 

“To bed.” His father repeated, but he returned the hug before giving Fili a light shove. 

Fili took his time on the stairs, sorting through what his father had said and what was still left in silence. By the time he reached their room, some of his excitement returned to edge out the melancholy. Their room was dark, but Kili’s breath had not yet evened out into sleep. The beds had been pushed together, one large nest of their furs and blankets. Fili undressed hurriedly then slid in against Kili’s back. He nuzzled through dark hair to find the soft skin of Kili’s neck, pressing kisses there. 

“What kept you?” Kili turned slow as syrup, languid with incipient sleep. 

“Papa giving out advice.” He brushed his lips over the tip of Kili’s nose. “And receiving his blessing, I think. Apparently he and Mama know about us.” 

“They what?” Kili went stiff and resisting against him. 

“Don’t take on. It’s fine, I said.” He rubbed a hand down Kili’s back, willing it to turn supple and sensuous again. “I think Papa even approves a little.” 

“Truly?” 

“Truly.” Fili rubbed his nose against Kili’s. “Would I lie about something like that?” 

“That’s good then.” Kili did relax then, softening in Fili’s hands until they could mold their bodies together. 

Fili thought no more of what his father that night. They spent the next two months in a flurry of preparation. The coin they had been saving melted away in the face of new needs, furnishing them with sturdy packs, new boots and equipment. When Thorin’s instructions arrived by post, they had been ready to depart for a week. Their mother made an enormous breakfast the morning of their sending off, insisting on wrapping the remaining buns and sausages for their lunch. 

“Come Kili, let me show you how to reheat them.” She took him protesting into the kitchen, where doubtless she would fuss over her baby’s departure one last time. 

“I have something for you.” His father said as soon as they were gone. 

“More supplies?” Fili wiped down the table with a wet cloth. He surprised himself with a pang of sadness. It would be a long time before he cleaned his mother’s table again.

“You could say that.” His father offered up a small bit of cloth. “I always meant to leave these to you someday, but I think you’ll appreciate them more now.” 

Eyebrows raised, Fili took it and felt the slight weight in his palm. He flicked back the corners of the fabric. Two hair clasps, etched silver sat within. Holding them up to the light, Fili made out the runes that marked his father’s house and a name. 

“These were your sister’s?” 

“Aye.” His father reached forward to close Fili’s fingers around them. “You will be surrounded by your mother’s people, but I hope you will remember your old father when you wear these.” 

“I would never forget.” Fili put his hand over his father’s. “Thank you.” 

“We best go.” Kili escaped from the kitchen, their mother trailing behind him with a furrow in her brow. “It’s a long day’s walk ahead of us. We’ll be late if we linger.” 

“Since when do you care about late?” Their mother fussed over the fall of Kili’s collar. 

“Mama!” Kili caught up her wrists, removing them gently then kissing her on the cheek. 

“Be careful.” She pleaded. “Fili, you’ll watch him won’t you?“

“Whenever he stands still long enough.” Fili took his turn being kissed and fussed over. 

Then without further fanfare, they shouldered their packs. Fili resisted looking back though he saw Kili pause when they reached the end of town for one last glance. 

“Come on then.” Fili nudged him with an elbow. “Bet we can can reach Bree by nightfall.” 

They stopped for lunch on one of the rolling green hills, not bother to do more than unwrap their mother’s breakfast leftovers as the sun warmed them down to the bone. Before they could stir back up from the perches, the little cloth package Fili had tucked into his pocket jarred against his thigh. 

“Look.” He took it out and spread the cloth wide so Kili could see the shining clasps. “Papa gave me these before we left. One for me, one for you.” 

“Where did they come from?” Kili picked one up, playing the sun off the metal. 

“Family heirlooms.” The story was on the tip of his tongue to tell him, but then Kili flashed him a smile and the sad tale got swallowed whole. That memory was given to him from one older brother to another. A warning that he alone needed to carry. “Turn around now.” 

Kili consented, making soft noises of contentment as Fili ran fingers through his hair. When he’d gathered enough, he set the clasp there. It looked far better than it had in the cloth. The silver gleamed in thick dark locks. 

“Pretty Ruby.” He teased gently, tugging at a loose strand. 

“Awful, you are.” Kili turned, thumping Fili on the head. “Let me do yours.” 

“If you can find a place to put it. I think you put in twenty braids last week.” 

“You weren’t complaining at the time.” Kili unwound a few of the thick braids that hung closest to Fili’s face, pulling back the released hair and clasping it. “There. I like the look of that.” 

“Do you?” Fili leaned back his head until it rested on Kili’s shoulder. “A fine pair of adventurers we are, lazing about in the grass. We should be going.” 

“Should we?” Kili’s arms went around him. “I don’t know. We won’t get much quiet once we’ve joined the others.” 

“Hm. Pretty and wise.” Fili grinned. “Now how did I win such a prize?” 

“I’ve no idea. Since you’re foolish and only a little handsome.” Kili kissed his forehead, ran a hand under his coat to settle on Fili’s stomach. “My Beryl.” 

“ _Ah haza._ ” Fili smiled, joyful. “Always.” 

That night they’d stand at a hobbit’s door and their adventure would begin in earnest. They would be adventurers and soldiers. Just then though, for one last sun soaked afternoon, they were two rootless boys utterly at home with each other.


End file.
